Force of Habit
by woollythinking
Summary: After the war, relationships get tested; everyone makes mistakes, and some things you can’t run from forever. Eventual HGCW, with other ships along the way.
1. Several Reasons Why

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Force of Habit

Summary: After the war, relationships get tested; everyone makes mistakes, and some things you can't run from forever. Eventual HG/CW, with other ships along the way.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros studios.  
  
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Chapter One – Several Reasons Why Next Time, You Should Just Apparate Out of Beijing

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One hour in to an eleven and a half flight is about the time when any sane person would begin to regret their chosen method of travelling. The initial buzz of setting out on any journey has worn off, and instead the realisation that you are essentially trapped, with a hundred nervously farting tourists and businessmen, in a metal tube held in the air by nothing more reliable than science.

Charlie Weasley was eight hours in, his neck was aching, his foot had gone to sleep, and the snoring of the man next to him was threatening to wear through his very last nerve. The stewardesses had just brought round a second lot of cartons containing reheated food. Having poked vaguely at the first meal of flabby duck in an unidentified sauce, he avoided this entirely, opting instead for eating the bread roll and thinking longingly of his mother's cooking. The coffee, at least, was welcome. In front of him, the screen was showing a subtitled Chinese film; some kind of love story between two whimsical misfits. Charlie was reasonably sure, however, that the girl was dying of some mysterious wasting illness she had yet to tell the guy about. You'd think he'd realise something was up, given the amount of time she seemed to spend fainting and gasping for breath. Worryingly, if muggle films were to be believed, that sort of thing was very common.

The journey was especially trying, he decided, when this whole thing was no more than an experiment he'd set out on, encouraged by his father. After all, Apparition left him tired out for hours after arriving from such long distances, and he was already arriving for his little sister's wedding at the last possible moment. Jetlag notwithstanding, he felt he should give staying awake through the ceremony as decent a chance as possible. Ginny had better at least appreciate the expensive silk bedspread he'd got as a wedding present. Colleen had assured him it was the perfect gift. Though her taste was far from impeccable, she was at least female, and not actively trying to ruin his life.

Pushing uncomfortable thoughts of Shuang out of his mind, he turned back to working on his report on a rise in illegal dragon hunting, resisting the temptation to suggest that anyone who could harvest the venom of a full- grown Himalayan Whiptail and survive to sell it had probably earned their profit. He himself had spent an interesting week in the infirmary alternating between agonising cramps and vivid hallucinations after a close encounter with an irritable hatchling, and had since acquired a whole new respect for the species. Still, the Chinese Fireball was increasingly threatened, and the hide was useless for anything except decorating the arses of the more affluent wankers of the world. Bill at least wore dragonhide with an attitude that suggested he might be able to hunt one himself and return with all his limbs and eyebrows intact. Those who'd been caught with illegal Fireball hide, however, tended to be skinny guys with overbites who'd thought girls would go for a more 'badass' look.

The man next to him farted loudly, and what little enthusiasm Charlie had managed to muster for the task dissipated. As the girl on screen finally got around to a tearful admission to her oblivious boyfriend, Charlie fell into a cramped, resentful doze.

... ... ...

The luggage carousel turned out to be vaguely hypnotic. A cardboard box marked 'HANDLE WITH CARE' had broken open, spilling papers in a constant trail. So far, it had gone unclaimed, but Charlie's bets were that the owner was the tearful looking bloke grappling with five briefcases. By the time Charlie's own suitcase arrived, battered and held together only by a few discreet charms, most people had already headed off to 'Nothing to Declare'. With so many Muggles around, Charlie didn't dare cast a levitating charm on the heavy suitcase, and so found himself nominally in charge of a luggage trolley with wheels that all seemed to have different ideas of what direction they should be moving in.

Swearing under his breath all the way out into the fluorescent brightness of the arrivals lounge, he looked around for his welcoming committee. He was surprised, however, to see a thin woman with a cloud of brown hair holding a sign with 'CHARLIE' neatly printed on it. She saw him and waved, and he strolled over as nonchalantly as he could manage with the recalcitrant trolley in tow.

"You didn't think I'd recognise the famous Hermione Granger?" He said, grinning. She leant up and kissed him on the cheek.

"It was an attempt at the full Muggle flying experience. I'm sorry none of your family could make it."

Charlie picked up the suitcase, deciding to abandon the trolley to its own devices. "Let me guess; last minute wedding crisis?"

She grimaced slightly, and Charlie couldn't help staring at her face. She didn't look any older than the last time he saw her, still soft featured and smooth skinned. He noted with approval that she was still refusing to hide the scar with a glamour, the angry purple line extending from the right corner of her mouth in parody of a smile. She flushed slightly under his gaze, and turned the side of her face away. "Sorry. It's just... been a long time." He looked away, and threw the suitcase across his shoulders.

She snorted. "Two years. Molly's spitting about how little time you're staying this time, too."

"At least I came back." He said lightly. "Not like I could miss my baby sister's wedding, of course."

She turned away, and Charlie had the sudden feeling of having said the wrong thing. "Well, no. Ginny would kill you." She said calmly, and began walking to the exit. Charlie had to break into an ungainly trot to keep up, the suitcase bumping his legs. "We can apparate from an alley just around the corner. People will just think I'm giving you a more... enthusiastic welcome." She said dryly, folding the sign into a neat square.

Ignoring the sudden coolness of her demeanour, Charlie grinned at the back of her head. "Lead on, good lady."

... ... ... ... ... ...

A/N: I'm afraid the first chapter's not heavy on details, but I can assure you that both explanations and plot will be following soon. Next chapter: weddings, Weasleys, a little angst and a fair dollop of drunkenness. Maybe even the elusive plot.


	2. Back to The Burrow

Title: Force of Habit

Summary: Warning for character death. And you may find a few surprises sprung on you, partly for dramatic effect, and partly because I hate large chunks of exposition. This story is unfurling at its own pace, no matter how much the Weasleys try to hurry things along.

Huge thanks to Yuuri Akasura, my first (and hopefully not only) reviewer. I hope you like this chapter!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros studios.

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Chapter Two – Back to the Burrow

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The Burrow was always a welcoming sight in the evenings, with every window lit up with a warm glow. Today, though, the tables and decorations that filled the garden in preparation for the wedding party created an especially festive atmosphere. The tables were each covered in flowers, and he boughs of the trees that overhung the garden were laden with candles, promising a display of colour and light that bordered on tasteless. Charlie grinned, not least at the thought of the feast Molly would be creating for tomorrow. "Mum's pulling out all the stops, I guess."

Hermione brushed a moth away from her face, irritably. "Would Ginny have it any other way?" she said lightly. "She's been planning this for years. Tomorrow we can expect flights of enchanted butterflies, fireworks the like of which you have never seen, singing harps and an amount of food that could keep even Ron happy for several years."

"Singing harps?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suggested they might simply play harp music, but simplicity isn't exactly the theme here."

"Charlie!" Ginny yelled from the doorway, charging out to greet him with hug. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming. Where's my present?"

"Glad you've not let celebrity turn you mercenary, Gin." Charlie teased.

"Of course I have. I'm only Chaser for the Wasps because they offered me more than the Cannons. So where's my present?" She adopted a challenging pose, hands outstretched.

"You'll get it tomorrow, as per tradition and the unbreakable law of Molly Weasley. Now let me inside so I can eat." He looked round to discover that Hermione had already slipped into the house with his suitcase, and he hooked his arm through Ginny's.

"I'm getting married tomorrow." She whispered dreamily, and then looked up at him with a slightly foolish grin on her face. "Don't you think Ginny Jordan sounds good?"

Charlie was saved from answering by another flurry of welcomes and hugs. His mother clasped him especially closely, and sniffed a few times into his chest, while the twins settled for a strange double handshake and a pair of manly thumps to the shoulder and Ron took his suitcase, making a show of scanning it with his magic eye that was a duplicate of Moody's. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione talking to Lupin, a strangely serious expression on both their faces.

"So, the final Arctoidean shows up?" Lee Jordan said heartily, with the slightly nervous expression of a groom who has already sat through the threats of several older brothers. "Good to see you again, old chap."

Charlie glared at him, drawing himself up to his full height and making the most of his I-wrestle-dragons-for-fun physique. "Glad you're finally making her an honest woman." He growled.

Lee rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile. "Gin, could you please call off your brothers?" He threw a dramatically pleading expression at Ginny, who laughed.

"Charlie, don't beat up my husband-to-be." She said lightly, taking Lee's hand. Hermione and Lupin had ceased their conversation, and were joining the merry chat that filled the tiny dining room, though Charlie noticed that Hermione had a slightly strained smile, and that Ron and Molly would occasionally give her a concerned glance.

Even the addition of Bill and Fleur into the already crowded room couldn't prevent Charlie from noticing how the constant movement between chairs always left at least one seat empty. A plate of sandwiches was passed round and people fell on them ravenously despite Molly's insistence that they 'save their appetites for tomorrow', but she still seemed to have made too many.

Turning half an ear to Bill's joking conversation with Lee on the impending doom of married life, Charlie joined in the laughter, trying to turn his thoughts to something happier.

...

Most of the family had gone to bed, Lee safely sequestered in with the twin's and Ginny with Hermione, despite Ginny pointing out that 'honestly, we've been living together for two years, mum, you're a bit late'. Lupin had taken Percy's old room, while Charlie would be in with Ron. Hermione was theoretically in with Ginny, but she was currently curled up on the sofa staring at the fire while Charlie straightened the furniture and put away cups and plates.

After a while, he was forced to admit that he was stalling going to bed, and he sat down on a chair, watching Hermione. She looked lost in thought, though after a few moments she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and she turned to him, looking faintly accusing.

"Sorry." Charlie said insincerely. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but are you okay?"

She looked a little surprised at his question for a moment, but shrugged and turned away. "I'm okay. I guess watching Ginny marry Lee is going to be a little strange."

Charlie sighed and slumped back into his seat. "Yeah. I guess most of us always thought it would be-" he broke off, catching himself.

She smiled wryly. "You can say his name, Charlie. Harry died four years ago; it's hardly news." Charlie blushed. He'd forgotten how talking to Hermione nearly always left him with the feeling of having said the wrong thing. She didn't seem to notice though, and started talking again. "You're right, though. Watching those two at school, it always seemed like a fairy tale waiting to happen. And then… everything happened." She paused, and closed her eyes. "I'm being selfish, really. If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's Ginny."

Charlie looked away, strangely conscious of the scuffed texture of the leather armrests under his hands and the crackle of the fire. "How's Ron coping?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows. "Not as well as he tries to pretend, I think. He… well, you know how close the three of us were. Half of Hogwarts thought we were having some kind of kinky threeway affair in our seventh year. And with Severus, well, I think it's stirred things up again."

Charlie started. "Snape?" The distaste in his voice must have shown through, as she closed her mouth tightly, and Charlie got the impression that the atmosphere of confidence had been abruptly dissipated.

"He deserves better than that." She said coldly. "Our continued existence is partly thanks to him."

"I'm sorry. I just can't get past the terror of my Hogwarts days." Charlie said lightly. When she showed no sign of smiling, he tried again. "I do respect him, you know. He was… pretty decent to Mum after Dad died." She nodded, seeming to accept this, and he tried to lighten the atmosphere again. "So, how is he these days?"

She stiffened. "I'm going to sleep down here, I think. Goodnight, Charlie." She turned away with a deliberate air, hiding her face behind her hair.

He was about to try and get her talking again, but suddenly felt too tired. It was late, and whatever Hermione was going through, it wasn't his problem.

If he slept badly, it was probably only due to Ron's snoring.

A/N: Well, that's the second chapter. I can't believe I killed Arthur and Harry, and as you may be able to tell, the next chapter's probably going to unfurl a little more angst. The wedding's still come, not to mention the fact that I'm finally going to let Ron have his say.

NB: Arctoidean literally means 'weasel-like'. Or possibly 'raccoon-like', but I'm ignoring that definition. I fell in love with the word, and it seemed to roll out of Lee's mouth with ease.


End file.
